


Not Your Mom's Mystery Science Theatre

by biscuit_tin



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Death, Gen, Gore, Humanstuck, Necromancy, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Somewhat, Time Shenanigans, a few dimensional hiccups, aliens occasionally
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-06-09 18:56:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6919168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biscuit_tin/pseuds/biscuit_tin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes weird things happen that you can't explain. And they just keep happening. And they happen to your friends. Whoops.</p><p>aka: A lot of weird shit happens to a lot of people who all share six or less degrees of relation to one another. Told in ficlets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Teenagers from Outer Space (Latula, Terezi)

# Not Your MMST (Latula, Terezi)

#    


## AKA: Teenagers from Outer Space

##    


### AKA: When a Giant Morphing Space Lizard Crash Lands on Earth and is Rad as Hell

 

Terezi just stands there and stares open mouthed as Latula drags herself out of the smoking wreckage that was her miniship by the claws. She’s kinda banged up - lost some scales and the tip of her tail just fell off, _that’s_ gonna take a while to grow back - but her basic portable comm is still working and connecting to her internal translation chip, at least. 

“Hey,” Terezi calls out, twisting one edge of her cape between nervous fingers, “Are you gonna eat me?”

The comm and the chip take a moment to sync with the language but when she understands, Latula replies slowly, rolling her ‘R’s a bit because this language **[Comm: Self-Identifying Sentient Species = Human, Fractured-Lingual Speakers]** feels a bit weird on her tongue.

“No. Are you?”

Terezi grins widely all of a sudden, showing all of her teeth.

“No! Do all dragons come from space?”

After talking with Terezi-human more, Latula comes to the conclusion that she is going to have to blend in, her miniship is toasted and there’s no telling if or when someone is going to be close enough to pick up on her comm signal. Latula leans in and gives Terezi’s face one good swipe with her tongue, gets a feel for the human shape and several gross, wet popping sounds later there is a tall girl with sharp limbs and angles in a black jumpsuit and teal vest where there used to be a lizard. Latula looks down at the short human when her new fleshy hand suddenly feels wet and slobbery.

“There, now we’re even! Do you want to come to my house and play video games?”

Mom comes home from the law office seven hours later, to find out her five-year-old daughter has not only managed to chase off the newest child minder, and brought home a stray teenager who looks like a clone of herself when she was that age, but has acquired the new habit of licking everything and everyone. Frankly, Mom is just thankful that the house is still standing and that Terezi looks really happy - sometimes you just have to roll with what life throws at you. A little bit of alien show-and-tell and Mom is not going to let some drifting space youth loose without any means of support on what she now knows is a pretty low-key planet. Latula stays.

Latula really digs Earth culture. It’s fortunate she crashed in California because surfing, skateboarding and rollerblading are the Hella Trifecta. Things are warm and welcome here - she didn’t have a lot going for her back home, just another gal in an overcrowded city in the middle of a double star system, expensive to live in and never enough natural sunlight. Earth’s sun is nice and warm and not obscured by a planet-wide cloud of industrial smog.

As a Welcome to the Family gift, Mom and Terezi give her a Teenagers from Outer Space tabletop role-play game and break out the dice together for a good family throw down night. Mom has the goofy Polaroids of her two best girls trying to outslobber one another while fighting over a character sheet on her desk at the law-firm. 

The first time Someone rants about ‘illegal aliens’ on the TV Latula panics. Like - is it because she doesn’t sweat like humans? Who even _notices_ that? How do they even know who the illegal aliens are? Is she illegal if she accidentally crashed? How do you prove accidental alien space ship crashing in an Earth Court of Law and how much in fines is she going to have to cough up because it’s been eight months planetside since her miniship ate dirt after she went on an interstellar joyride?

The last thing this gal heard, Earth was not yet a member of the Interstellar Planetary Cooperation Commerce Agreement which means they don’t accept IPC Currency yet, and even if they _did_ , Latula did some rough conversions and she definitely doesn’t have enough funds to cover something like that. Probably. 

Terezi is cuddled up to her on the sofa, all pointy little knees and elbows tucked in and assures her big Space Sis that the pasty beige buttface on the tv is not talking about her - and if he were, Mom would snap him up and eat him for breakfast.


	2. Necromicon Not Required (Karkat)

# Not Your MMST (Karkat)

#    


## AKA: Necromicon not Required

##    


### AKA: Fuck You I Don't Even Get Paid for This Shit

Dad had been a vegetarian for at least as long as Karat could remember, but he had no idea there was anything significant about that until he was seven - when he stayed at Terezi’s house for dinner because her Mom was home early from the law office and baked a chicken pie and let the kids help. Sitting at the dinner table later got awkward when the pie suddenly began rocking itself off of the trivet in the center and emitting squawky murder-beast hell noises. 

Welp.

Everyone looked on in befuddlement and mild alarm as the pie finally managed to rock itself completely off the table. Latula put on her Alien Anthropology Hat and asked whether all Boy Earth Children reanimated chicken pies.

Karkat still has no idea what the fetid steaming horse pile _that_ was about.

Time passed and the day came when Karkat found out he was saddled with Kankri, the most obnoxious, rage-inducing, proselytizing ghost-guide to ever back-seat necromance **FOR THE REST OF HIS MORTAL LIFESPAN**. Dad just smiled patiently at his twelve-year-old son and “You can’t choose your guiding ancestor” became the 4th most repeated phrase in the household (which usually prompted the 5th most repeated phrase: “That is a heap of unfair and festering bullshit” which nearly always prompted the 2nd most repeated phrase “50 cents in the swear jar, kid.”). 

Fast-forward sixteen years, and Karkat lives alone in an apartment with his zombie cat Mutie for company. Karkat is pretty sure that the extra set of eyes on its head are a sign that this cat wasn’t meant to survive outside of the womb. But. He couldn’t just leave it in the alley.

And.

Yes, _okay_. Maybe he was a bit lonely, alright? It was a moment of weakness, and Kankri fretted and blustered on about people with allergies to cat hair until Karkat pointed out that the only person who **LIVED** in the apartment was himself and that he was not allergic to cats _aaaat_ which point Kankri started on about Karkat being inconsiderate of other being’s corporeal status. 

Of course, it was just his luck that he ended up with an undead fluff ball with absolutely no killer instinct whatsoever. The little asshole wouldn’t know how to catch a mouse if one ran up and bit him on his necrotic tail. No, not Mutie - he just fucking rolls over for goddamn belly rubs and hides socks in a pile under the futon. 

The apartment is small and shitty but it’s _Karkat’s_ , all 475 square feet of tiny box shower and kitchen/living room/bedroom combo space. He works for a tech support company as an out-of-home call specialist - the job is rage inducing and mindless, but at least it pays. 

Unlike his other job. 

Those are the days when Aradia calls him, and Karkat has long since learned to heed her warnings and go along with her freaky time shenanigans. While her requests for his assistance sometimes appear frivolous to him, Karkat doesn’t doubt that in the end Aradia is getting some kind of shit done. 

“Karkat. You need to get down here right now.” 

The line goes dead. There’s no preamble or singsong tone, just a clipped, serious voice on the other end of the phone, and it sets his teeth on edge. Karkat rushes out the door, barely managing to pull his shoes on all the way, jacket only pulled up one sleeve and umbrella forgotten in haste because Karkat knows, he just _knows_ something is wrong. Aradia is inscrutable as the dark cave pits she likes to dig in, but she’s generally cheerful and by this point she’s become a friend and he just _needs to hurry_ -

He nearly breaks down the door pounding to be let in and barely spares a glance for Damara as he slips on the hardwood floors, dripping rainwater everywhere and rushes down into the basement, just about throwing himself into the wall to stop and oh. Oh god, it’s 

“Kanaya - what?”

“Eridan fucked up.”

Karkat’s brain stutters to a halt because this is Kanaya, this is his family, and he doesn't have a whole hell of a lot of family left and there is a huge goddamned hole in the middle of her chest and suddenly he is all hot rage and there are tears threatening to spill over at the corners of his eyes and - 

“What the holy ever-loving fuck does that even _mean_ , ‘Eridan fucked up’?! It’s called **Murder** when you kill someone by punching a gaping hole in someone’s chest, Aradia, not fucking up! Jesus fucking Christ, fucking up is not hitting the brake at a stop sign on your godforsaken drivers test! I’m going to murder that smarmy shitcake fish-for-brains myself! She’s missing her damned organs, oh my god -“ Aradia smacks him across the cheek to get his attention

“Karkat! Pull it together, okay? I can’t keep her fresh like this much longer.” 

“You realize that this isn’t a quickie resuscitation, right? Kanaya is actually going to be an undead, needs-a-steady-blood diet vampire if I bring her back?”

(As if there was ever a question of whether or not he would save her.)

Aradia assures him that it will be okay, that Kanaya will be okay, that this is something that needs to happen and that she will be alright with being reanimated. Kankri sighs in his ear, but is unusually silent about the whole affair, where he would typically be listing the 236 reasons why Karkat should not be doing this and that tacit approval cements his resolve. Karkat is not reassured, because it really isn’t okay - she shouldn’t even **BE** dead, and he wants a fucking explanation after this gore fest is mopped up later. 

Karkat rolls up his sleeves. Takes a deep breath to steady himself.

Another deep breath. 

Karkat plunges his hands into the gaping chest hole and grasps the mangled, pulpy remains of Kanaya’s heart and reaches for the spark deep within himself that connects him to Kanaya, begins calling her spirit back to her body so he can put her back together again.


	3. Not Your Sister's Gay Wizard Fic (Dave)

# Not Your MMST (Dave)

#    


## AKA: Not Your Sister's Gay Wizard Fic

##    


### AKA: Why Dave is a Feathery Asshole

Dave really doesn’t want to die. _Really_. Doesn't. That was the whole reason he took the city bus in the first place. Better than walking home with 1,800$ worth of DJ equipment at 2 in the morning. Cheaper than a taxi. There’s only two other passengers - a crumbly, crusty old man in the back with wispy cotton hair and a gal three seats ahead of him in the row opposite, with tangled curls swept back over one built shoulder (she is muscled like a tank).

So it really fucking sucks balls-deep when ANOTHER bus suddenly t-bones into the one he’s starting to fall asleep on.

There’s the sound of crunching and glass breaking as the bus starts to roll on its side, and squealing breaks proceed another jarring impact as a car collides with the back of the fallen bus, and —

Very suddenly, Dave is outside on the street, looking at a hot mess of a vehicular incident. Definitely gonna be on the 6 am news. There’s already camera crews swarming by police tape and ambulances are loading up body bags and - **wait**.

“Yup. You’re kind of dead.”

Dave starts and turns around - or he tries to. What he manages to do instead is a floaty, half-turn in thin air and _Holy Shit_ his feet are not on the ground before drifting forward and falling face first THROUGH a generous bosom. As he continues to fall headfirst through the speaker’s well-muscled torso, she says

“That also means you’re still a _teensy_ bit alive. And if you’re willing to contract with me, I can help you be all-the-way alive again.”

At this point Dave has floated facedown on the speaker’s feet.

“What kind of contract?”

“In exchange for your life, you’d agree to be my familiar.”

“So what, you’d turn me into a zombie or a cat or something?”

“Nope (she pops her 'p's when she says it), nothing like that - you’d maintain your free will and you're definitely not a cat. No, you’d get your body back, just with a few extras. And you’d have to help me out with my spell casting once in a while, promise to protect me from danger, you know - be my sworn knight, that sort of thing.”

“Well shit, sign me up babe, what do I do to not be dead.”

(Sickly red light pulses in his vision. There’s a brief glimpse of a heavy rack of horns suddenly bursting and curling out of thick hair before everything _burns_.)

Dave forgets all of this as he wakes up suddenly in the county morgue when they’re unzipping the bag he arrived in to unload his body. Fifteen minutes of apologies (for giving the intern a black eye and the morgue tech a bloody nose) and retrieving his things (the cases for his sound equipment are sturdy as _fuck_ , small miracles) and Dave absconds like a bat out of hell before they can so much as take down his a/s/l.

Dave walks home. He doesn’t give a **fuck**.

His two years older brother Dirk is sitting on the futon playing shitty video games, bowl of cereal balanced on one knee and spoon in his mouth when Dave drags his sorry ass and battered cases through the door.

The spoon falls out of Dirk’s mouth and he reaches out to steady the cereal bowl and put it aside as he says

“Dude. The _fuck_ happened to you?”

Instead of responding, Dave drops his cases and lays down spreadeagled on the floor. Dorito-crusted shag carpeting never smelled so good.

Also rank.

After asking if he needs to go avenge family honor and receiving a negative, Dirk helps Dave up and half drags him to the bathroom before dumping him on the lid of the toilet seat. Of course, cutting off Dave’s ruined t-shirt sparks another Strider freakout - Dave’s clothes may be bloody and a tad crispy around the edges, but Dave himself only has a few sore bumps and bruises. Then there’s the issue of the mysterious tattoo that Dave did not previously possess that is currently eating up real estate on 9/10ths of his back (wings, feathers and gears in shades of orange-red-gold).

While Dave is trying to twist himself to get a look in the mirror and asking himself ‘What the fuck even?’ Dirk suddenly grabs Dave’s face and smooshes his brother’s cheeks and looks at Dave’s eyes and -

“Holy shit, dude, I thought I was the one with the anime dokis.”

“What.”

“You’re eyes, - they’re fucking _red_. What the hell, Dave.”

When Dave whips around to get a good look in the mirror, he really begins to freak out.

And that’s when he and Dirk notice that the sweet tats aren’t just tats - Dave actually has feathers to ruffle now. And finger talons when he stresses. Whoops.

About the time of this massive freakout is when Aradia shows up on the Strider doorstep with Sollux in tow and a ‘Corpse Party Celebration’ cookie cake.

Dave is starting to remember the morning’s prior events as Dirk and Sollux eye each other up as **‘That Asshole’** from when they both play Call of Duty 4 on xboxlive.

When Aradia and Dave sit back for a proper ‘ **Discussion, TM.** ’, She gives him the walkthrough - basically, he is now her phoenix, _yes_ he is her familiar - _no_ , there is no Harry Potter horcrux shit involved, thanks very much, Rose, etc.

Dave is a great familiar for Aradia, because phoenixes are musical timey-wimey creatures and her speciality as a Witch is Time. They do hit it off pretty well - dead thing collecting trips are a good icebreaker. Dave’s music has improved even, what with being part musical time bird and all. His prey flight-fight response is a little more exacerbated though, and Dave is hella embarrassed when someone/thing surprises him suddenly and he **Peeps** (fucking _Peeps_ , okay?) involuntarily or squawks indignantly (“The asshole is you, John. Now stop pulling on my goddamn pinfeathers -“).


End file.
